Saturday, August 15, 2009
Went to the library again today to get fresh new reads. I got 4, Mum (!!!) got 1.
I started on 'The Secret Between Us' by B. Delinsky rightaway... whilst waiting for Daddy to pick us up from the library. The storyline was almost Jodi Picoult-ish, but the flow is good, and the read is something which we can definitely relate to.
So I read.. I read through the car-service in Eunos.
I read in the car, waiting for the folks who did their dusk prayers.
I read even during dinner, in btw spoonfuls of my Mee Hoon Goreng and Daddy's satay.
Time check: 3 hours down, and a quarter of the book to go.
I continued whilst Daddy drove into and out of Geylang to view the Raya decor light-up - a feat, considering it was dark in the car, and I had to change reading positions several times.
And on the PIE on the way home, I was down to the last few pages of the book.
Time check: Nearly 4 hours at the book.
BUT that's not the point of this entry.
I remember how you hated it I started on a new book.... I remember how you hated even seeing any of my reads around the house.
You would try all ways and means, including tossing it out of your sight, over me, under the bed, into the kitchen, out the door.
You would even hide my book in odd places, then feign innocence when I asked. And I always thought it was just my normal clutterbrain misplacing the books... but why and how did I place the book at top of the wardrobe??????
Spending our often-lazy evenings curled up in front of the TV, you would sacrifice changing your soccer channels just so I wouldn't use that as an excuse to read.
And some nights when I fall asleep early, you would take the book from my side and keep it, for you know when the book is away from my view, there was a 75% chance that I would forget about reading it the next day.
And when I questioned your hatred for books, you say when I read, I'm always immersed.
And that makes you feel lonely.
I'd always thought you were silly, hating my books to that extent.
But in the car just now, its this particular silliness of yours that creeps up in my memories.
It's funny - At that point, I just teared in the backseat of the car, and it was not even because of the read!
I'd finally understood.
I miss you, silly husband of mine.
I am waiting, (still) patiently. Come back soon.
XXX